


These Here Are My Desires

by howlingautumn (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, Do Not Separate The Heirs Of Durin, Dwalin Feels, Dwalin Is A Softie, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, M/M, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Bilbo, Thorin Feels, Thorin Is Durin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/howlingautumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hobbit hole, after the war. Fret not dear ones, this existence is fleeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sapphire

**Author's Note:**

> Formerly called themoonyautumn. Bless you for staying with me.

_Thorin’s smile is a flash of white teeth and sparkling blue eyes and just a hint of endearing crow’s feet at the edge. It lights up Bard of Laketown’s small abode and causes Bluebell Baggins to hiccup against her teacup. He is very regal, she thinks absently, and that smile could call the stars down from their perches._

_It comes to Blue, after the battle, after_ **everything** _, that that moment is the last time she sees Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain smile without sadness._

_She can still taste blood and metal on her teeth for hours after._

It is exactly Autumn when the raven swoops into her main kitchen. Mad Baggins has awoken herself once again by screaming. Her heart racing. Her palms sweating. Her eyes full of . . . nevermind that. The raven swoops into her kitchen with a small piece of parchment tied to it’s ankle with red ribbon. It gurgles at her in the strange speech of Erebor’s ravens. Blue smiles, halfway, and gives water to Saph the Raven and then feeds her small bits of brisket from earlier that day.

Hours pass before she can bring herself to read the message.

It is from Dwalin. Now, that one she didn’t expect. Fili and Kili, yes. Bofur, at least once a week. Ori, it was practically a novel. They were all so kind and sweet and tender that she would hold them close to her heart until the ache subsided and she’d grit her teeth until her heart slowed to a manageable pace. Then, she would sit in her armchair and try to articulate in kind what she felt, still feels, still feels with every inch of her body and mind and soul, while the letters called from the desk.

Before tea time, she begins to read:

_**To Miss Bluebell Baggins of Bag End,** _

_**The Crown Princes, The Company, and my blasted brother would not let me sleep nor eat nor clean my bloody axes in peace until I sat down and wrote you this letter. They tell me that although you write back swiftly and as they put it, beautifully, you still leave out parts of that biting honesty that our Burglar always has.** _

_**If that is the case, Master Burglar, then I hope you will have recovered your wits by the time we reach Hobbiton in the next few weeks. Yes, the next few weeks. Saph, my raven, has excellent navigational skills and will be able to find Bag End even in the middle of our journey.** _

_**We will see you soon,** _

_**Dwalin, Son of Fundin** _

_**P.S. Tea is still at four, I hope.** _

It is so Dwalin. The short letter. The short words. The short time to prepare. It sends Blue’s nerves into overdrive and it makes the laughter that spills from her mouth all the more surprising. **  
**

The Company is coming back to her.  _His_  Company is coming back to her.

_"Do you think we could have been friends, Gandalf? In another life?” And the hobbit asks this with only mild trepidation because she is punch drunk on the moonlight and still being alive. Being alive is such a powerful thing indeed._

_The wizard puffs thoughtfully on the end of his pipe, “No,” he answers dryly, but then smiles, “You are never friends.”_

 


	2. Honeysuckle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, good thief.

_“What ever do you mean, Gandalf? Why . . . why couldn’t we be friends?” Blue knows her voice sounds aching even to her own ears. And she runs the small length of the journey so far through her head, finding only circumstantial evidence about Thorin hating her guts. Still, it stings a bit. Through her internal rant she does not see the Grey Wizard tilting his head and letting out a light chuckle._

_“Bluebell Baggins, I only mean to say that two such as you more often than not do not become friends. That is it.”_

_Still, later that night, lying cold on her sleeping roll, she has the distinct feeling that is not what her friend meant at all._

Standing in front of a hallway mirror, Blue practices her market face.

It is the face she uses to placate vendors, family, and friends into believing that she is perfectly content and joyful to be shopping at the open market. It is easier to make the market face when Bag End doesn’t feel so empty. Though, after a half an hour passes, the face slides easily onto her countenance, and if she looks at herself through periphery, it almost seems real.

So, coin purse in hand and market face securely on the only hobbit in Bag End steps out the door for the first time in a week. It would be fair to say that the sun temporarily blinds her. As Bluebell Baggins rubs at her temples and wonders why she ever thought to go grocery shopping, Hamfast Gamgee and his youngest (for now) son are pruning the roses, letting their employer mumble a string of unintelligible ramblings before the elder smiles, “Good morning, Master Baggins.”

It frightens her to think how quickly the market face resumes occupancy. Her eyes now soft. Her mouth not quite a full-blown smile. Her eyebrows slightly lifted. “Good morning, Hamfast. Good morning, Samwise. Thank you for taking such good care of my mother’s roses, they do look lovely today.”

The gardener is quick to smile back, suppressing the instinct to ask after the young hobbit, much like he would his own children. “No trouble at all, Miss Bluebell. It is delightful to see them in all their finery once more.”

Blue nods her quick assent, “Yes it is, and if you will excuse me dear Gamgees, I must be off to the market. Could I pick anything up for you, while I am there?” All the while she smells roses and thinks of the withered state they would have been in if Hamfast had not dutifully watered them even without pay. She thinks, not for the first time, that if they had died while she was . . . away, Belladonna Took may not have minded.

The hobbit almost misses Hamfast’s chuckle and his, “No, but thank you kindly, Master Baggins. We will be off soon.” It is only until she is out of the gate that she realizes little Samwise Gamgee was staring at her the entire time. Well, she says to herself, the damnable market mask doesn’t do quite everything.

The stalls are open. The shopping begins. And, as usual, the farmer’s market is slow and lazy and utterly boring but she doesn’t let the mask slip from her face the entire time. She doesn’t let it slip from her face when some young fauntling asks her name and their mother pulls them away by the ear. She doesn’t let it slip when Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’ cousin sneers in her face and asks how it feels to be such a disgrace to her family’s honorable name. And, she most certainly does not let it slip when a new vendor takes one look at her coin and asks if it is real.

No one offers her help with her wagonful of supplies and groceries. That is fine. She hasn’t needed help carrying in anything in an awful long time. It is nearly dusk when she reaches her estate and it is most certainly night when she gets everything unpacked and organized. Tomorrow will be another very, very, very long day but she cannot halt in her actions lest she drown in to do lists.

Under the slope she can hear the Gamgee’s laughing and talking and enjoying a late supper together. Under the cover of the deep dark velvet sky she tiptoes into the back garden and goes to lay flat on her back. The grass is soft and still sort of warm from the afternoon sun. Blue allows herself to trace the constellations with her eyes.

Yavanna the market is awful. She hates being fake. She hates the niceties. She hates . . . she hates this feeling. 

She falls asleep with that feeling on her chest and the grass clutched in her hands. 

_Bofur sits beside her on a log a few nights after she and Gandalf’s “friend” conversation. The dwarf and his funny hat are a sight to see next to the windblown hobbit. Blue expects nothing less than him ignoring her, because that is what most of the Company is comfortable with doing. She gasps when something is placed into her curling and uncurling palm. They have been on this journey for three weeks and no one but the wizard has purposefully touched her._

_She wants to laugh when she sees the intricately carved and melded toy dragon._

_“ . . . Thank you.” Blue says, and she really means it. “It is so lifelike!”_

_Bofur smiles, actually smiles at her, “I’m a humble toymaker by trade, lass. It is a token of apology. I should not have been so cruel to make you faint.”_

_Somewhere within Bluebell Baggins body comes a twisting of gratitude, “It is lovely, Bofur. You should change your name to the Proud Toymaker.”_

_It isn’t the last time she hears him laugh._

 


	3. Stars, I.

_The halfling is shivering. Her teeth are chattering together and her fingertips are just regaining a pink tinge instead of a purple one. They had hauled the hobbit from the icy river just after she had finished stalling the trolls that almost killed them all. Technically speaking, she had saved their lives, Thorin’s life, not Gandalf. And yet, she is still shivering._

_Dwalin sighs, long and irritably. Why in Mahal’s name must he be the one to do this. Still, he digs inside of his saddlebags until his fingers hit an extra cloak. It will certainly be huge on the halfling. But, warm indeed. With no prologue he stalks across the way and shoves it into her arms. “Here.” She looks up, way up, forehead wrinkling in incomprehension and surprise. It clicks when he rolls his eyes. “O-oh. T-t-t-hank you M-m-m-ister D-w-w-alin.”_

_Dwalin has the good graces only to snort once, “Just put it on before you butcher your words further, halfling.” She does. And she looks utterly ridiculous. The shivering has stopped._

_The hobbit glides her fingers across the fabric, “I love the blue.”_   _Then she stares at him for one, two, three seconds. “No one called me Blue, before. I was just Bell, or Bluebell.”_

_Before can bite his tongue, he says, “Blue is my favorite color.”_

_The halfling just . . . smiles. And oh, curse bluebells and curse blue eyes. He needs a drink._

**ONE WEEK OUTSIDE OF THE SHIRE**

The birds are singing. The sky is a perfect cloudless blue. And Dwalin is trying not to throttle Crown Prince Number Two. 

Kili has not halted his yammering for weeks. Dwalin is starting to wonder if the pest even breathes. Recall one minute ago when Dwalin was just trying to take a leak and  _Prince_  Kili came up behind him to start yapping about the Shire and how close they are and do you wonder if Blue made apple pie and on and on and on and he can't take one more minute of it. He might already be insane. No, insanity would be a reprieve from questions about the halfling. 

He lets out a particularly long suffering sigh, "Please, Kili. Please. We will be there within the week. Send a raven if you must. But, please, please, please, let me take a piss in peace." His tone is pleading, pleading for Mahal's sake, and he knows that Kili looks a little like a heartbroken puppy without even turning around. "Fine, we'll be there within three days." The dwarf prince cheers, tries to hug him, thinks better of it, and goes to tell the motley crew that Dwalin has made all of his wildest dreams come true. Pah. At least there is blessed silence . . . for three seconds. 

They all thought the halfling would be back by now. That is why they are here. Perhaps, for his efforts, he may even get blackberry tart. 

That is, if he doesn't kill Kili first. 

_He stands to Thorin's side, like always. His friend is tense, his King is tense._

_Dwalin, always having the good sense to keep his mouth shut, just waits. His patience is rewarded when Thorin speaks, even if it is not what he expected, "The . . . hobbit was brave today. Don't you think, Dwalin?" Thorin's voice sounds like rolling thunder and he can't help but notice._

_"Aye, she was. Quite brave for such a peculiar creature."_

_Thorin looks at him and his eyes burn like sapphires and you could liken them to any gem in Middle Earth and they would still shine out the bloody stars. "Goodnight, Dwalin."_

_"Goodnight, Thorin," he says, quietly as to not wake the others._

 

_It is a long time before he sleeps._


	4. Stars, II.

_Balin stands behind him, slowly creating the braid behind his ear. It reminds him of another time, soon after their father had died, after the desolation of Smaug, when Balin stood behind him and slowly clipped his mohawk into nothingness._

_Dwalin is relieved, that this time, there are no scissors. Fili and Kili are doing the same thing beside them, except Fili is being a little over directional to his baby brother on how to exactly, exactly get his moustache braids right. Dwalin just lets Balin do as he wishes, for the opportunity lets him drowse a bit._

_The Nephews laughter wakes him and Balin is still tugging slightly at his hair, so he settles for gazing across the fire. He does not gaze as broodingly as Thorin, who is slowly getting his hair back into order. Nor does he gaze as thoughtfully as Blue, who is trying to get one of her curls from sticking out straight from her head. They are both equidistant apart, they are both absolutely iridescent in the moonlight, and they are both without someone to braid for them._

_Balin chuckles and clicks his tongue, at what Dwalin has a feeling he knows, but he cannot give his brother the pleasure by turning around._

_Instead he just closes his eyes._

_But all that he sees are stars._

**BREACHING THE BORDERS OF HOBBITON**

It is Dwalin's favorite kind of day. The early autumn rain came down for a little over an hour and then the sun peeked out from fluffy white clouds and left the world with a cool breeze. Now, as day gives way to evening, he realizes they might not make it to tea time. The entire of the Company is smiling. And he can even feel one side of his face lifting into a half grin. The halfling is even closer than ever and then they will convince her to leave Bag End and come back to Erebor and there she will have . . .

Magnificently engineered gardens. Yes, that is it, magnificently engineered gardens. His brother trails behind him a bit, while Kili is right on his ankles, and if he hadn't been so happy at the prospect of a bed, he might have flipped the prince over his shoulder already. Sapphire flies in a circle above them, gurgling out raven speech, to then fly on to the Shire, and he suspects, The Baggins Estate. 

Once they reach the only road, hobbits of every age and width come to watch the parade of dwarves head to Mad Baggins house. A few even dain to glare at them. Fili holds Kili back from either screaming or punching. Though, after the few rude, most are cheerful. Some even wave. Their pace quickens the closer they get to the slope of Bag End. The younger Prince even breaks into a sprint once it is in sight. He knocks once, twice, three times until the door opens slowly, almost warily, which is good, because she cannot know that it  _is_  them. 

His, no their, Burglar, to put it kindly, looks like hell. 

_" **FILI! KILI!** " _

_Dwalin jumps up and so does the rest of the Company, as Crown Prince Number One comes sprinting out of the forest frantically looking for a hiding spot, therefore leaving his younger brother to fend for himself against the drenched halfling. Who is holding her equally drenched book with one hand and her sword in the other. "UNCLE! HELP ME! UNCLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEE!" He sighs, he really does, and grabs Kili by the ear._

_"What did you do boy?"_

_"Mister Dwalin! We didn't mean for her to land in the river! We just wanted to see the . . ."_

_Fili, from where ever he is hiding, curses, "YOU! NOT WE!"_

_"For Mahal's sake! What is all that racket?" Thorin comes out of the woodwork, quickly taking in the soaked hobbit, guilty nephews, audience, and Dwalin. "What did you do?"_

_But, before Kili can answer, the very pale Burglar just sheaths her letter opener and shakes her head, "Nothing! Nothing . . . I'll just go! It is really fine! I tripped, so clumsy me! Apologies." She almost falls over her own large feet getting away from them. Dwalin hits Kili on the back of the head for good measure._

_The halfling had looked . . . frightened._

_Balin gives him a mournful look later and he realizes. The halfling thought their anger was for . . . oh._


	5. Lost in Translation

Blue's _emotions tend to leak out of her hand._

_Whether it be through the clasping and unclasping of her fingers, the popping of her knuckles, or the wringing of her hands themselves. They always seem to let out the emotion pent up in her body. It's healthier for her in a way, no use in getting too too too upset when she could just squeeze her hands as tight together as possible and try not to scream._

_Her hands only keep the flood at bay for so long. And she wakes screaming their names._

Dwalin  _sharpens his axes, Grasper and Keeper, and tries to ignore the sets of eyes upon him. His brother tries to touch his arm but he just shrugs Balin off and tries to concentrate. Kili, knowing what is wrong, brings him a hammer and fires up the forge._ _  
_

_He melts down Grasper with a sapphire ring from Thorin's own hand. He melts down Keeper with the dragon ear clasp that Bluebell Baggins wore as she faced down Smaug. The metals mix with his tears, they drip down his beard, carving rivers into his forge stained cheeks._

_He calls his new axes, Thief and King._

Thorin  _wants to vomit and later he is sure he does. He had forced his two closest . . . allies to act as something unspeakable. He had made them to stand at his left and right sides, beside his throne. He had humiliated them by making it so._

_Still after all of his misdeeds they had pulled him from the depths of his madness._

_The Burglar and The Warrior, the runes would have run down his arms, above the veins filled with Durin the Deathless's blood._

_He is like a bloody ouroboros, cursed to eat his own tail for all of eternity._

_Oh Aüle. What had he done._


	6. Always

_Her shirt is a fine, light cloth masking the mithril underneath. It is a soft cotton with no sleeves, a deep Durin blue._

_She halts her footsteps at the edge of Bree. She had traveled back with a caravan of Men. Rangers, refugees, and others. The Rangers had always favored her as a child, their Captain would have considered it a disservice to let Belladonna Took's daughter travel alone to Hobbiton. Most though, were polite and detached at the same time. They must have known._

_Blue thinks she sees dwarves, in the woods, by the streams, in the marketplaces, and knows she must be mistaken. Any Ereborean dwarves would have made their way back to the Lonely Mountain by now._

_Still though, she dreams. And when she reaches the Shire only to find a ransacked house and glaring faces, she closes her eyes, and she dreams._

Master Baggins, or Mad Baggins as she is called by many a Shire-folk, opens the door to Bag End almost too slowly.

Kili stops seconds short of throwing his arms around her waist and spinning her around and around and around again, the same as always. Instead, he stops and stares for a moment, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side, "Blue," he starts, "you look like . . . "

Fili peers over his brother's shoulder, "Ah, Miss Boggins, hell." 

Blue, looking pale and a bit stricken, squeezes Kili's arm to make sure that he is real. And, for the first time in months, really smiles, no mask included. "My twin terrors, come here." And, for the first time in months, the Burglar and the boys, embrace. 

Bag End is in immaculate condition, the pantries are full, guest bedrooms aired out, but the her hand is still twitching. The dwarves file in one by one, hugs, kisses, and kind words are all given freely. The missing part of Blue's body is slowly being rebuilt. Slowly, as her Company files in, some missing, some there, she feels the walls she had erected to keep from crumbling fall, brick by brick. 

Dwalin slips of his hood, while the last brick crashes. 

_"You love him too." Dwalin comes over, after, and that is what she says. And there are plenty of words left unsaid between the lot of them, so he decides to add a few more to the pile._

_"Halfling . . . I . . ." he tries to start, failing miserably._

_Bluebell Baggins, Master Burglar of Thorin Oakenshield's Company and surely one of the great star-hewn loves of his life, rolls her eyes. "Dwalin, do not pretend to mishear me, it is quite beneath you and considering that we all very nearly lost our live today, it is ridiculous."_

_He winces, hard, then sighs. Much too tired to play petty games of avoidance and much too fond of the person in front of him to even try. "In what way?"_

_The Burglar swallows and tries not to look so thoroughly clash-of-teeth-and-tongue-and-chapped-lips-kissed. "In every way," she says._

_And Dwalin just . . ._

They haven't said much. Neither of them. The hobbit has busied herself tending to her guests, no, her family and lighting candles and being particularly fussy about the state of Fili's braids. Balin, who after months of wheedling, was allowed to come, sits in one of the living rooms with Ori and smokes his pipe. Master Baggins brings them tea and cookies that he has been craving for his whole life he just didn't know it until now, fluffs pillows behind their tired heads, and shows Bofur where she keeps her dragon keepsakes. They stare at each other from across the room for a few seconds, until he cowards out and pretends to sleep in his chair like a tired old man. He is quite young, you know. They all are. 

His brother scratches Sapphire under the chin and feeds her seeds from a small tray nearby. "Balin, why is she called Sapphire?" Blue asks, still feeding the spoiled rotten raven berries. 

Balin laughs, "Why do you think? Bluebells and blue eyes, lass. My brother can't help himself." 

 

 


	7. Midnight, I.

" _Belladonna Took was many things, an adventurer, a friend, and an excellent baker. People called her Bell, and later, they called her daughter that as well. After she had married Bungo Baggins, she brought a tradition to Bag End that she had shared with her best friends, closest cousins, and a few select people. It was called Midnight Breakfast. The last hobbit mealtime was at nine o'clock in the evening, Supper as they called it, and the goal was to whip up so much decadent food and have so much conversation that it made it impossible to get up the next morning and have actual Breakfast. It is only to be shared with those whom you truly love."_

_Bluebell Baggins kisses the note from her mother, tucks it carefully into her pocket, because she'll need all the strength she can get today._

 

_She'll need the love, too._

 

Blue is awakened by whispering. 

 " _A_ _nd would I tell you that you all lived happily ever after? No, Bluebell, I could not, for no one truly does. Still, there is happiness. And, you did, you do_ **live.**   _"_

Bluebell, once again, wakes to whispering. Sunshine filters through the curtains and she opens her eyes to the ceiling, covered by a plethora of blankets, and missing a few pillows. She would recognize those voices anywhere, in the midst of battle, deep in the dungeons of Mirkwood, and booming across her smial. The Princes of Erebor peek over her one either side of the bed. 

"GOOD MORNING, BLUE!" They practically yell in her ear. In a quick, practiced movement, she tugs harshly on Fili's moustache braids and yanks Kili's ears. "Hellions! The lot of you!"


	8. Midnight, II.

_There were things he wanted to say, but he knew that the words would hurt her. So, he said nothing, taking the words and burying them deep inside, so they would hurt him instead._

_He would say to her, the slope of your neck is poetry, and your shoulders are a gift to all kind, and if I were better then I would . . ._

_Dwalin is helping her up from the mud, large hand encompassing her long fingers, and he can't help but wonder if the halfling knows the way Dwalin is looking at her._

_He buries that thought, too._

Blue should have known that yelling would bring the hordes down upon her head. By the way the Princes are grinning, she can almost imagine that they planned this all along, knowing that the Captain of the King Under the Mountain's Guard would come bursting through the frail by comparison door to dole out . . . something. Perhaps the orc did do her some head damage, because she suddenly feels a bit soft, like the events playing out around her aren't so much real as wishful thinking. That stops though, when Fili and Kili are dragged out by their tunics, and Dwalin looks at her directly for the first time since they arrived. 

"Are you alright, Bluebell?" he asks, mostly grasping his axes, and avoiding the real questions. 

"Yes," she says, "I'm . . . alright. But," and she is feeling particularly brave at the moment, so she goes ahead, full force, "you don't call me Bluebell." 

Dwalin pauses, closes his eyes shut tight, like the moments after, "Ah, I suppose you're right, lass. I don't call you Bluebell."

"Well, now that that's settled. Come give us a kiss."

Their eyes meet, and it is a hard stab at who stops laughing first. 

_"His Majesty asks your presence, Master Burglar."_


	9. Dawn in Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I don't deserve a note. Still, read and review as you wish.

_Thorin Oakenshield's head is deep and dark and weighed down with thoughts. They camp on the Carrock this night and if he closes his eyes he can feel the warmth of the halflng's body against his own, the softness of her curls under his hands. He cannot decide which memory cuts the deepest, which one he has to push aside more, the memory of the halfling or the memory of Dwalin's hot, dry kiss on his ear. Both are distracting, his heart wants to unfurl those memories until they seep into his skin and color his dreams with amber eyes and dark hair and soft skin and large hands and  . . ._

_Aching bones aside, it is going to be a long night._

It isn't as awkward after the laughter subsides. There are too many paths that would have led to this, too many unsaid dreams, too much tangibility that keeps them together. Bluebell Baggins feels alive. She feels Rivendell alive, she feels I just woke the dragon alive, she feels running through the forest shrieking for her life, and she thinks, she feels kissing Thorin Oakenshield when she thinks he is about to die alive. But, no, she won't allow her thoughts to stray there, not just yet. That can wait until the night, where they have shrouded themselves before, in the comfort of darkness cut by the shine of the stars. Still, Blue cannot think of how to equate them because there are so many things that she feels, that she feels so deep her bones crack under the weight. 

Again, this conversation will have to wait, her boys are calling. 

_Dwalin's mother used to fuss over him getting married someday. His father was Captain of the Royal Guard, married as much to the royal family as he was his wife. Dwalin loved his parents immensely and in turn they showered he and his brother with unconditional love and affection. This is how it was, this is how it would always be. Balin was softer than Dwalin's edges, but the children always came running to him instead, he would toss them up and tickle their stomachs and listen to their stories. He just looked scary, is all. Intimidating was a better word.  
_

_This is what Dwalin thinks when the halfling flinches at any touch the Company gives her, intentional or otherwise.  
_

_Thorin is/was/could be afraid of affection. Blue is just frightened of the new world they had dragged her into._

_Still, it doesn't lessen Dwalin's embarrassing urge to throw himself at their feet._

It is late when Dwalin and Blue finally meet in the garden and he knows what she will say before her beautiful mouth even forms the words. 

"So," she says, " . . . Thorin?"

_The guard tells her, "His Majesty asks for your presence." And Thorin is grateful for that because he wants to say, "Please Mahal, Blue, I need you, I need you, I need you."_

_The unsaid words burn harsher than even dragon fire._


	10. I'm On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did they go and leave you all alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in These Here Are My Desires history, this is a chapter completely in Thorin's perspective! Let me know what you think, and let me know what you think of a possible Harry Potter fic by yours truly. I love y'all!

_Thorin does not get the chance to spill his secrets like fresh blood onto Bluebell Baggin's heart. He does not get the chance because Dwalin, who saw the gold sickness in his eyes even before he could himself, has spirited the halfling away for her own safety. And, Thorin does not doubt this, he does not doubt it one bloody bit because he knows that the madness pervaded his soul so simply that he didn't even realize it was happening._

_Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, The Prince of Durin's blood, weeps into his hands that have ghosted along the Burglar's ribs in a futile attempt to convey what only words can._

King Thorin sits on his throne, staring moodily into the distance, as his extra energies have been used throwing himself into the rebuilding of Erebor and to the upkeep of his kingdom. Without his nephews here to pester him, he is bereft of any entertainment. Surprisingly to all, but most surprising to Thorin himself, the Prince of the Woodland realm, Legolas, had bent on one knee on the battlefield, and without hesitation in his bright blue eyes, had sworn his service to them. 

Well, more specifically, to Bluebell herself. However, she was already gone. 

Gone, gone, gone. Legolas had proven himself far better than his father already and so had Tauriel. They eclipsed Thorin's previous notions of their kind, and he feels that it may be partly to his age or that he is just growing soft. Too soft. 

And, in the same instant, not soft enough. 

This is the first day in months that the throne room had not been bustling with activity. It is a day of rest here. Legolas is standing solidly beside him, and bless that boy until the ends of time, silently. It leaves the carrier of the Oakenshield time to think. As if he doesn't do that enough. He thinks of Dwalin. He thinks of Blue. He thinks of the first night in the hobbit's smial and they way the tattoos that trace their way down his back had itched the same way they do now. 

Durin and Thorin and Durin and Thorin and Durin and Thorin. Never, in this twisting time he calls his life, has he ever felt so alone. 

**Oh, I'll love you til' you're gone, gone, gone.**

_Thorin Oakenshield throws his head back and laughs. Bard of Laketown's small abode is warm and he has not felt warm since the days at Beorn's hearth when he was so hurt and halfling stroked his hair back and Dwalin rubbed his feet when they thought no one, including each other, knew.  
_

_He sees Bluebell Baggins smile against her teacup and he wants to grab their hands and pull them to the bedroom and say, "Come with me."_

_He wants._

_He wants, but he never quite gets._


	11. Where's The Fun In Doing What You're Told?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, I had to up the rating. Secondly, you do not have to read this chapter! It will be a little steamy in a few places so don't feel obligated. It does have some plot, though. Please read and comment! Y'all enjoy!

_Durin walks slowly through the halls of the Royal Chambers. Erebor was quieting. It is, perhaps, his favorite time of day._

_He is the first of Mahal's Children, the first ever, and the first of all that are to come to take not one, but two Consorts. One had been his friend since moments after his creation, the other had been predestined, Mahal's consort is Yavanna, mother of the green, mother of the halflings. So, it is only fitting. Durin's favorite time of the day is coming to their shared bedchambers and being surrounded by their love. He can never get enough of their touch. When the mask of brooding and leading and stone falls off and all that is left is him.  
_

_Seavyan and Tinydith, the stars themselves are no equal to their beauty, not in the slightest and that may be blasphemous, but Eru forgive him, forgive him, please but if he spends one more moment away from them he feels his head will explode, implode, detonate into a thousand pieces._

_When he reaches the bedchamber, he gives a knock, even though he is King Under this Mountain and Above it and Around it as far as the eye can see, and technically he has full reign to swing open the door and take whatever he wishes. That, though, has never been a part of his being and he hopes that it never will be. He hopes that it never will be._

_"Come in," he hears Tinydith say in that soft, calming voice. He does, already shedding his cloak, walking towards the bed, and flinging himself in the middle of them like some love-lorn badger.  
_

_Seavyan lifts him chin and their lips meet and his tongue lays claim to all the secrets he keeps hidden, Tinydith is working his breeches off of him at the same time, he stills her with a hand on her hip, "My loves, I've only just arrived. Don't you-" the groan he gives surely can be heard the next kingdom over as Seavyan takes him in hand and slowly works the tension out of his body. He wants to scream, to throw them both on the floor in front of the fire and not stop until dawn breaks and they are all sated._

_Well, not quite sated._

_Tinydith kisses up his neck, shares a kiss with Seavyan, and repeats the action. "Oh, my King, we are only just beginning."  
_

_His eyes flutter back as their clever fingers-_

 

Thorin Oakenshield sits up in his pallet and groans so loudly he is afraid he has woken the whole camp. 


	12. Roll Away Your Stone, I'll Roll Away Mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some say our urges rule us on a primal level. A level we cannot control. Blue is not so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry for the gap between updates. College move-in and such! Anyway, let me know what you think, I always appreciate your candor. :)

Some say that our urges rule us on a primal level. A level we cannot control. Blue is not so sure. 

She wants to climb into Dwalin's lap and kiss him until they have no breath left and then put his stern mouth to better use . . . but that is entirely unacceptable dinner behavior. What is also unacceptable dinner behavior is to ask Dwalin about the dreams, if he has had them too, the ones that leave her breathless in the night, that started when other hobbit lads and lasses were courting but left her in her room alone, writhing between the sheets. Again, Bluebell Baggins feels that she has enough propriety left within her to resist this urge while the Company is assembled around her. 

At least, she hopes. 

_The hobbit yawns hugely across the fire._

_Dwalin feels that it is cosmic comeuppance that he yawns as well. Punishment for staring shamelessly at Thorin's bared arms and thighs earlier, punishment for taking in the curve of Blue's breasts under her shirt and her finely drawn mouth that he wants to taste, not that he is some old badger pervert. No, he is a dwarf in his prime, too entranced as to not see the Princes of Erebor hatching a plot._

 


	13. My Empty Arms Were Open.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days we have to take a step back to see who we really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this one . . .

_"Uncle Thorin! UNCLE THORIN!" Kili's voice sounds so very panicked and he is gripping Thorin's arms with such intensity that the dream fades fast and he stands, holding his nephews hands._

_"Kiliel, Kili, listen to me. What has happened?"  But already his eyes are straying to the Burglar's pack, and she is nowhere to be seen. Dwalin is large and strong and can handle himself. Bluebell is strong, she is strong, she is strong, but she is gone somewhere he cannot see and panic is being poured into his bloodstream. On the other side of camp, Fili is telling Dwalin something that makes Dwalin stand from his pack and swing Grasper and Keeper into his hands so quickly that it cannot be good. Dwalin is walking over. Dwalin is standing sure and steady beside him. It gives him enough peace for now.  
_

_Once again, he looks into his nephew's eyes, and asks, "What has happened?"_

_Kili's eyes are full of tears, he grips Thorin's shoulder and says so quietly that Thorin's wills him to be mistaken, "Blue, she is gone."_

_Thorin Oakenshield closes his eyes, counts to three, and calls to Dwalin, "Come with me."_

Blue is up at dawn, uncharacteristically. She is drinking a cup of tea, characteristically. The sun is casting a pink hue over the Shire. And, it is one of those sunrises that you just want to share with someone. In her case, two someones. No, no, no, not today old girl, not today. It is far too early in the morning to be thinking of  _them_. That is why, not two beats later, she screams her bloody lungs out when a large hand caresses her shoulder. 

And, when she turns around, well, she faints. 

Dwalin would recognize that scream anywhere, and he does, busting out of bed so fast that he knocks his head on the doorway. Thief and King are laying conveniently at the doorway, and he grasps them in his hands, ready to kill anything that had made their hobbit upset. But, when he does swing open the green door and sees . . . him. Well, he nearly faints too. 

_They need to find Blue. They need to find Blue. They need to find Blue._

_Thorin is tired and bruised and busted and he needs to find her. Dwalin knows, Dwalin always knows, so when he slips his large hand into Thorin's own, the stars sparkle down into his blue eyes._

_**Yes** , the mountains call, **can you fight fate, our beloved?**_

 


	14. It Was In Another Lifetime, One of Toil and Blood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, we are almost at the end of our These Here Are My Desires journey. I love you! Let me know what you think.

_When they break the thick treeline, they are encountered by the moon so bright it looks as if twilight has come once again. The rains have stopped, the storm is over, and there sits Bluebell Baggins, Master Burglar of his Company._

_She turns, dark curls tossed over one shoulder, in a still sleep affected voice so beautiful it makes Thorin want to fall to his knees because she is alive, alive, alive, and he no longer needs to look any farther, she says, "Fili and Kili woke me up, said they had something to show me. I must say, the lads did well."_

_Dwalin still has their fingers intertwined, and Durin beats against his ribcage, and he wants to tell them everything. How when he first awoke there was not a stain upon the moon and he was so alone and he walked and he found them and then he slept once more and so did they and do you remember, you remember Burglar, don't you? Dwalin, my Warrior, you remember, please let them remember. But, he doesn't, this life has been one of toil and blood._

_But, Mahal, of great beauty as well. Such great beauty._

_He does sit next to Blue, and Dwalin on her other side, they stare up at the starry sky. They glimmer and flash at him, they glimmer and flash at them. He reaches up a hand to the sky, palm flat up, and the wind howls._

_So does he, later._

When Blue's long-lashed eyes open and she sees the very familiar face of Thorin Oakenshield leaning above her, she flutters between the idea of slapping him or kissing him senseless, she does neither, tears springing up in her once dry eyes. Once being a very long time ago. "Thorin?"

Thorin Oakenshield has a very hard decision to make then, suddenly it does not feel so difficult, he leans into her touch, slowly matching his lips to hers. "My Blue, how I have wanted this. How I have wanted you." The Burglar wraps her arms around his neck, hands grasping his hair as he makes quick work of learning her mouth. A gruff voice comes from behind them, "As much as I get my gathers from watching the two of you, I'd prefer if my concussed self could get a little action today." 

Thorin barks out a laugh and throws his oldest friend a rude gesture. Then he groans so deep that Bluebell squeaks underneath him. "But first, we have much to discuss. Come, let me tell you. And then, if you wish it, I will leave."

 **Forever, forever, forever,** the mountains call. 

 _Yes_ , Thorin thinks,  _isn't it always?_

_"Thorin?" He looks so very pale, bruises forming underneath his eyes, and she goes to him, dropping to her knees and taking his hand. "Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield, listen to me, listen to me."_

_He gives her a heartbreaking smile, barely can he open those sapphire eyes, "The stars are quite bright tonight, aren't they Bluebell?"_

_She looks up into the dusk streaked sky, tries to keep her face smooth and without tears, "Yes, love. The stars are quite beautiful."_

_Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, Durin's Bane and Blood, coughs and breathes in quick succession, "Tell the stars to hide their fires, for these here are my desires. And I am giving them up to you, this time around." And he closes his eyes. And she closes hers. And Dwalin weeps and curses the names of all those that have come before them._

 


	15. And, I'm Drawn To Those Ones That Ain't Afraid.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We have come to the end, my loves. And now, it is your choice." It has always been your choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My loves, this is the last chapter of "These Here Are My Desires" and I am blessed that you are reading this. But, do not worry. I will continue to write fic, and am starting on a few chaptered one as we speak. Please, let me know what you think, by way of comments, reading, or whatever you wish. Thank you for sticking with me.

_Thorin II Oakenshield wakes with soft grass pillowing his head._

_There is a sweet smelling breeze coming from over the gently sloping hills. It has been many years since he has been in Yavanna's Fields, many years indeed. The memories of the Battle of the Five Armies are swirling around in the air, and he when he moves his hands down to the place where he was bleeding, the red of his blood contrasting so well with the snow on top of Ravenhill before, he finds no wound. Azog had laughed. Thorin, though, had taken Orcist, and lifted, so the Defiler was no more. No more._

_The One had promised him no more. No more pain, no more hurt, no more disappointment sinking bitter in the pit of his stomach._

_Just peace, until they are called upon once more, and the world begins anew._

_But, when Eru exhaled life into stone and he woke he knew that this was where he was meant to be. Not in the halls of waiting, but in the life. In the living. In the laughter of his nephews and his Company's presence and Dis and her advice and Dwalin's sarcasm and Bluebell Baggins and in that . . . he had truly lived._

_They step out from behind him, Mahal and Yavanna, and they are both smiling. Yavanna leans down, her hair framing her face that he cannot quite decipher, and she kisses his forehead, "My son, how well you have done."_

_Mahal places a hand where his braid was intertwined with the bead of Durin, "Yes, my found one, you have made us so very proud. You can rest now, Thorin. You have finished your journey. Oh, how well you have done."_

_Thorin, no Durin, the Deathless and himself both and all at once and at the same time, finds his voice. "Please. I am not quite finished yet."  
_

_The stars smile down at him and in that moment, he swears, he can feel it._

_He has lived it._

_He has seen the sun._

_He has tasted the sweetest of loves._

**_And, not for the last time._ **

Blue brings out fresh blackberry tart and tea for the three of them. They have traveled onto a more private corner of her property and there is a sense of calm serenity with the underlying tension that is ever present when things such as this must be aired out for the better. 

 _This_ , Thorin thinks, _is really happening._

He has never been one to throw his feelings out into the wind and let the dust cover them so that they may be trampled upon like mere rags in the midnight. Yet, he has never been one to show his feelings to anyone besides the two sitting in front of him. Sometimes, you must air out the bones to let the light in. 

So, stealing the courage from the lives before him, he begins. 

"We have come to the end, my loves. And now, it is your choice." It is always been your choice. He tells them of how many lives he has lived. He tells them that they have been together since the beginning. He tells them of Mahal and Yavanna. He tells them of the mural. He tells them how his bones grow weary, this turn of the wheel, how he needs them to breathe and that may be laced with some bloody dramatic irony, but he doesn't care, it rings true to his own ears. He tells them of the blood of the Deathless one. He tells them of how he had slipped after Azog, how he had ended up in the Fields, and he was given the choice. The last choice. How this was meant to be his last life. How he chose them over it all. How he had shamed them all with gold-sickness. 

He is crying now, tears clouding his eyes but not his speech. 

He, Thorin II Oakenshield, is nothing more and nothing less, and he aches, his heart pounds a rhythm unknown against his chest, but the words keep spilling like a dam that was broken. 

Broken by him. Finally. 

"So, you see . . . I am unworthy of your love. This many lives and I still can not get it right." The truth burns his throat, still, it must be said. 

It must be said. 

Blue is the first one to speak, her eyes red, and her hair curling up violently at the ends, "Thorin . . . you must not think you are to blame. If I had only known, if I had only known the depths of your . . . I would only have revealed mine sooner. And, I cannot speak for the both of us, but, my answer is yes. How could it be anything but? To spend the rest of my life and the next with two . . . with the two most . . . with the two people I love most in this world, that would be my dreams come true. It would, truly."

Thorin hiccups a sob into his hand, circling her wrist with ease, his love, his truest of trues, here with him. The other part of him is, though, is still, waiting for his other half to speak. To reveal his thoughts before them. 

He has waited so long. 

He would wait forever. 

Dwalin does speak, taking in their faces so beautiful to him, "Thorin, my King. Blue, my Queen. It is I who feel unworthy of your love. But, when I look into your eyes, I see you for what you truly are . . . my own. The ones I have dreamt about for the ages. I love you." Those last words are said so solidly, no soliloquy needed. They are understood. They are words that are not quite heard but quite felt instead. 

They join hands, the three of them, and he smiles. 

 

Some things are fleeting. Some only exist inside the past. Some can only be felt in the now. 

But, some things last forever. Things such as love, friendship, and places remembered. 

 _And_ , Thorin thinks, _he should know._  

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want more Bluebell Baggins? Check out (formerly under themoonyautumn) Always in My Head, the last pale light, and something new coming up.


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